


Jade

by nekosmuse_archive (nekosmuse)



Category: Without a Trace
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23686996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekosmuse/pseuds/nekosmuse_archive
Summary: Written pre 2005. Posting for archival purposes.The counting of days.
Relationships: Martin Fitzgerald/Danny Taylor
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Jade

Eighty-five days.  
  
His hand still shakes when he crosses the day off on his calendar, but Martin doesn't mind. Because eighty-five days leads to eighty-six days, which will eventually lead to ninety days and ninety days is the goal.  
  
It's the time frame Danny gave him, anyway, the first few weeks of recovery hazy, but Martin still remembers their conversation. He was still dazed from his first NA meeting the first time he tried to kiss Danny.  
  
He meant it as a gesture of thanks, but the second Danny rejected him, Martin knew that this was what he wanted; Danny's lips soft against his, Danny's body hard and warm beneath him and, despite his doctor telling him to expect a decline in his sex drive, Martin found himself hard.  
  
Hard enough to protest, Martin attempting to kiss Danny a second time, but Danny pressed his hands against Martin's shoulders, pushed him back and told him, _ninety days_.  
  
Martin counted that day as his first.  
  
He has next Monday circled in bright red, black Xs creeping ever closer, each day that passes bringing clarity, and anticipation.  
  
Danny knows. Occasionally he'll glance at Martin's calendar, shake his head and laugh, but he always smiles, soft and secretive, like maybe he has his own calendar tucked away in the depths of his desk. Martin hopes so, anyway.  
  
He's banking on it, because he's already made reservations, bought new sheets and more condoms than he knows what to do with. He has lube too, something that Martin still blushes to think about, because buying it earned him the number of the guy behind him in line. It earned him a smirk from the cashier, too, and it was quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of his life.  
  
He didn't keep the number. The thought didn't even occur to him, Martin not wanting some random guy, even with his pretty eyes and earth-scented cologne. He wanted Danny. Wants Danny. Just Danny; the same Danny who saved his life, the same Danny who greets him every morning with a warm smile and a clap on his shoulder, the same Danny who steals his sandwiches and makes fun of his ties. The same Danny who's currently perched on the edge of the conference table, pelvis tilted, smirk firmly in place and...  
  
Son of bitch.  
  
Flirting. With Elena. Of all people.  
  
Martin's vaguely aware of the fact that he's growling.  
  
And okay, on second glance, maybe Danny's not flirting. But Elena certainly is; leaning into him, smiling, flicking her hair, trying to woo him with her Latin charm and who the hell does she think she is? Doesn't she know Danny's spoken for?  
  
Obviously not, but Martin blames that on Danny. Because Danny's not stopping her, letting her flirt like he doesn't mind the attention and before Martin can rationalize the thought, he's out of his chair.  
  
Practically storming across the room, all but pushing Elena out of his way, shoulder connecting with hers in the process and Martin's too intent on Danny to register her muffled grunt. Danny's smirking, Martin realizes, looking entirely too pleased with himself and Martin doesn't give him a chance to gloat, instead grabbing Danny by his tie, dragging him forward, crushing their lips together in a kiss that rattles Martin's teeth.  
  
Ha. Take that, Elena.  
  
Behind him, a throat clears, and only then does Martin realize what he's doing --kissing Danny in the middle of the office, Danny's hand wrapped around Martin's neck, holding him close, Martin's fingers clenched in Danny's shirt, tongue halfway down Danny's throat and...  
  
What the hell is he doing?  
  
Marking his territory, the small, rational part of his brain tells him, but Martin's fairly certain his brain can't be trusted. What he's doing is kissing his coworker, right out in the open, for everyone to see and... Yep, there it is. Panic.  
  
Familiar panic, Martin almost relieved by the sensation. It makes it easier to pull back, anyway, Martin blinking, taking in the sight of Danny's swollen lips, glazed eyes and flushed skin and the sight is almost enough to make him dive back in.  
  
Instead he forces himself to step back, releasing a heavy breath in the process.  
  
He's acutely aware of the fact that people are staring. Danny's gaze is warm, Elena's gaze curious, maybe a little angry. Across the room, Sam seems shocked, while Vivian is smiling. There's a guy he doesn't know staring with his mouth open, eyes wide and Martin knows this will be all over the Bureau before the day is out.  
  
Martin swallows. Coughs. Tries to think of something to say.  
  
"Um..." is the best he's capable of.  
  
Danny smirks.  
  
"You're five days early," he says after a moment, arching an eyebrow and Martin doesn't think before answering.  
  
"Four, actually. Today's almost over," Martin answers, tone flat, everything about him numb and it's almost a shame that he can't seem to move, because he'd really like to flee right about now.  
  
"In that case, I'll let it slide," Danny tells him, pushing himself off the table, stepping forward, into Martin's space, hands coming up and Martin glances down in time to watch Danny straighten his tie.  
  
He doesn't say anything else, chuckling to himself before walking away, nodding in Elena's direction like she's just done him a huge favour. Martin wills the floor to open beneath him, swallow him into the depths of the earth. It doesn't happen.  
  
~*~  
  
 _Today's almost over._  
  
Right.  
  
And he knew, the second he said it, he knew. Tempting fate is never a good idea, after all, so of course a new case came in, right at five to five, Martin almost home free, but because he said the words, this was inevitable.  
  
Martin wants to hit something.  
  
Really.  
  
And he's seriously thinking about starting with Sam.  
  
She won't shut up, after all, a constant stream of babble coming from the passenger side of the car and Martin's seriously considering swerving into oncoming traffic.  
  
 _Why didn't you tell me?  
  
How long?  
  
What were you doing with me?  
  
Does your dad know?  
  
Does Jack know?  
  
Were you ever going to tell me?_  
  
Martin clenches his jaw and tries to block her out. It doesn't help, but thankfully they've arrived, Martin braking just a little too hard, smiling at the sound of Sam's seatbelt locking.  
  
"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, probably not, I imagine he does now, and maybe," Martin answers, pulling the key out of the ignition before climbing out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him and Sam seems to have run out of questions.  
  
Martin sends up silent thanks and prays for a quick resolution to their latest missing person's case.  
  
~*~  
  
Eighty-six days.  
  
Not quite, but the sun's due to rise any moment now and Martin's taken to marking the passing of days with the rising of the sun.  
  
It's a stupid thing to do, he knows, because technically he'll have to wait until after work on Monday --and if it weren't for the case they picked up last night Martin wouldn't have even need to count-- so he really should be waiting until the end of the day to increase his count.  
  
He doesn't like waiting, though; three months bad enough and Martin once again finds himself cursing their missing girl.  
  
Technically, she's a woman, nineteen, but he's taken to thinking of her as a girl. It doesn't help that her dorm room is decorated with unicorns --and really, unicorns?-- or that her father keeps calling her his _little girl_. Martin's starting to suspect that she likely ran away. He knows he would have.  
  
"God, this is ridiculous. No emails, no chat transcripts, no journal; is this girl for real?" Martin finds himself asking, the question rhetorical, but Elena still answers him.  
  
"When I was her age..."  
  
Martin doesn't catch the rest. There's a trick to it, Danny's told him, but Martin still can't process half of what Elena says. He thinks she might have made reference to a cow, maybe a couch, but he's fairly certain it's not worth knowing.  
  
"Right," he still answers, nodding thoughtfully, like whatever it was she said is somehow profound and warrants his contemplation.  
  
Elena merely smiles.  
  
In truth, he doesn't really mind that he's working with her. She hasn't asked him about Danny, anyway, which is more than he can say for Sam, and Vivian. Even Jack's taken to eyeing him sideways, like he's thinking about saying something and Martin's dreading what will come out when he does get around to voicing his opinion.  
  
"Did Mac get anything off her laptop?" Martin asks, still sorting through the files from her computer that Mac was nice enough to print out.  
  
Several research papers, an English essay, a dozen or so assignments; staples of a college student, but none of them suggest anything about the girl other than the fact that she was studious.  
  
"Yeah, it looks..."  
  
Something about a turtle? What?  
  
"Okay, that's good," Martin guesses, Elena nodding and Martin congratulates himself for choosing the correct response.  
  
The rest is just grunt work, searching through records and pushing papers. Martin glances at his calendar and hopes that Danny meant what he said when he offered to let it slide.  
  
~*~  
  
"This building was a death trap when I was staying here," Danny tells him, but Martin's not paying attention.  
  
He's too busy watching the sway of Danny's hips, Danny a pace in front of him, talking over his shoulder, recounting his brief time living in Columbia's dorms. Martin doesn't really care where Danny lived, though, because Danny's wearing his grey pants with the black pinstripes and Martin's always been a fan of Danny's ass in said pants.  
  
They certainly emphasize Danny's assets.  
  
Martin chuckles at that, enjoying his pun; although he suspects Danny would likely roll his eyes if Martin said it out loud. Occasionally, Danny doesn't share his sense of humour.  
  
"I was drinking then, so I don't think I really noticed," Danny continues, glancing over then, catching Martin's eye and, oh, this is a serious conversation.  
  
Martin can do serious.  
  
"Is it weird being back?" Martin asks, because it was weird for him the first time he went back to his apartment sober, everything reminding him of the months he spent sinking into addiction. Some days he still considers moving.  
  
"Nah, it doesn't even look the same. I think they renovated," Danny replies, nodding to the girl's room, her roommate back from her boyfriend's and this is the interview they've been waiting for.  
  
~*~  
  
Eighty-seven days.  
  
And Martin's starting to lose it.  
  
Not sleeping will do that to a person, he knows, but they've found their girl, so that's really what's important.  
  
She was in Vegas of all places, with her boyfriend --husband, now, Martin supposes, but he suspects her parents are going to push for an annulment; sanctity of marriage his ass.  
  
It was her roommate that filled in them in on that bit, laughing like she thought it was the funniest thing in the world. Apparently their missing girl had been plotting this for some time now.  
  
They close the case at two in the morning, but Martin's still counting it as a day. Besides, he'll likely sleep through the sun rising, so he's fairly certain it's allowed.  
  
Even if it's not, it doesn't matter, because the second he makes it back to the office, he tracks down Danny. Some things are more important than sleep.  
  
It only takes ten minutes to convince Danny to grab a bite to eat. Martin would have suggested they head straight to Martin's place, but Danny's been stubborn all day and Martin doesn't have the energy to argue.  
  
~*~  
  
Danny makes him wait.  
  
The bastard.  
  
First it was, _once the case is closed, Martin._  
  
Then it was, _after dinner, Martin._  
  
Now it's, _you know, it's only three days now, Martin, maybe we should..._  
  
Martin's not having any of it.  
  
Because their last minute case lasted thirty-three hours; thirty-three hours of no sleep and no food and no sex and Martin's getting a little sick of waiting.  
  
He outed himself to the entire office, for fuck's sake; this is the least of what he deserves.  
  
Besides, it's not like Danny's complaining.  
  
In fact, he's kissing Martin back, hands slipping beneath Martin's shirt to settle on Martin's lower back and, yes, that's much better. No talking, no excuses and no prying eyes and Martin doesn't even care that they haven't made it back to the car. Just like he doesn't care that they're standing in the middle of the street, a block away from the restaurant --Danny's choice and Martin's thinking about canceling his reservations just to punish Danny for making him wait this long-- Danny pressed against the rough brick of the closest building and Martin's just thankful for dimly lit alleys and the late hour.  
  
"Martin, Martin..."  
  
Danny's mumbling against Martin's mouth, so it's easy to ignore him, Martin deciding to listen to Danny's body instead, because Danny's thrusting against him, hips grinding in slow circles and Martin knows that Danny wants this as bad as he does.  
  
But not here, because Martin still has his new sheets, and his new condoms, and his new lube and he's not about to waste any of those by fucking Danny in an alley.  
  
"Come on," Martin says, pulling back, Danny groaning at the loss, but he nods, lets Martin drag him back to the car and Martin releases a breath to calm his nerves before climbing into the driver's seat.  
  
Still, he speeds home, running two red lights in the process, figuring he can always pull out his badge if they get pulled over. It doesn't happen, though, and ten minutes later he's pulling into his underground parking garage, pausing only long enough to lean across the seats and pull Danny into another kiss before climbing out of the car.  
  
He doesn't check to see if Danny's following, trusting that Danny's been waiting for this as long as he has. Still, he finds himself relieved when he steps into the elevator and turns to find Danny doing the same. Martin can't quite suppress his grin.  
  
Danny returns it, waiting for the doors to close behind him before stepping into Martin's space, hands coming up to settle on Martin's shoulders, fingers curling behind Martin's neck to play with Martin's shirt collar.  
  
"You sure you're ready for this?" Danny asks, and it's clear that Danny's nervous, uncertain and Martin almost laughs.  
  
Because he's been ready for this forever, ninety days just a formality, something Martin agreed to so that Danny would know he wasn't taking advantage.  
  
Martin answers with a kiss, slowly backing Danny across the elevator until his back hits a wall. Even then Martin keeps moving forward, pressing himself tight against Danny's body, the space between them vanishing and when Martin pulls back, it's only because they've arrived.  
  
His fingers tremble as he reaches into his pocket to pull out his keys, hands shaking when he reaches his door and attempts to slide his key into the lock. Eventually it connects, Martin glancing once over his shoulder once before heading inside.  
  
Danny follows, pausing only long enough to slip out of his shoes before Martin has him moving again, all but dragging Danny down the hall and into his bedroom.  
  
He wasn't expecting this today, so his bed is unmade, his new sheets wrinkled, but Martin no longer sees them. All there is is Danny and too many clothes between them. Martin reaches for Danny's tie, tugging until Danny steps forward so that Martin can work on the knot.  
  
He doesn't quite get it, but it's loose enough to slip the tie over Danny's neck, Martin tossing it carelessly to the floor before reaching for the buttons on Danny's shirt. Danny shifts beneath him, letting his suit jacket fall to the floor before reaching for Martin's tie. His fingers are nimbler than Martin's, so he gets it off before Martin's made it past his second button.  
  
He can feel himself leveling, exhaustion overwhelming his excitement, making his hands shake worse than they usually do. He knows his second wind --or is it his third?-- is fading, Martin accidentally tearing a button off Danny's shirt in his haste to get it undone.  
  
It's a sign he should probably sleep first, Martin knows, but Danny's standing in his bedroom, fingers deftly undoing Martin's shirt, finishing his row of buttons before reaching for Martin's belt and Martin curses, a second button falling to join its twin on the floor.  
  
"Easy, I like this shirt," Danny tells him, laughing softly, leaning forward to nip at Martin's neck, tongue following a moment behind, easing the sting and Martin concedes defeat.  
  
"Just get it off," he groans, Danny chuckling against his ear, popping open the button on Martin's pants, sliding down the zipper before stepping back and reaching for the hem of his shirt.  
  
And just like that it's gone, up and off and Martin can't seem to stop staring. Danny's pants follow a moment behind, Danny left clad in boxers, cock tenting the fabric and Martin suddenly clues into the fact that he's still wearing clothes.  
  
He fumbles with his pants, twice almost tripping himself in his rush to get them off. It's worth it in the end, though, Martin finally freeing himself and Danny steps forward, pressing his chest against Martin's, Danny's skin hot against his own. He shifts a second time, lining their cocks together, pelvis tilting and Martin thinks seriously about purring.  
  
He doesn't get the chance, though, Danny pushing, walking Martin backwards until Martin's knees hit the bed, Martin falling, Danny following behind until he's straddled over Martin's thighs.  
  
And this is nice, Martin decides, liking Danny's weight pressed against him. He likes that Danny's looking too, fingers following the path of his eyes and Martin thinks he could get used to Danny touching him.  
  
Danny touches him all the time, but this is different, this is methodical in a way his casual contact never is and Martin feels himself shiver, entire body trembling as Danny's hands ghost across his stomach.  
  
Danny reaches the space between Martin's navel and hipbone, fingers stilling and Martin knows what he's doing. Memorizing Martin's scar, expression becoming vacant, almost haunted and Martin forces himself to move, hand coming up to cup Danny's cheek.  
  
Danny leans into the touch, eyes closing and Martin knows the moment has passed. They still haven't talked about Martin's near brush with death, but Martin has a feeling they will. Not tonight, though; tonight exists for other reasons.  
  
Reasons that Martin would sooner get to, Danny's pace torturously slow and Martin lets his hand fall, gripping Danny's hip instead, hips thrusting forward as he flips them, Danny landing with a crash and Martin comes dangerously close to falling off the edge of the bed.  
  
He manages to right himself, tugging at Danny's hips until he clues in to Martin's intentions, Danny shifting, twisting around to move up and lie in Martin's pillows.  
  
And Martin was right. The cream of his new sheets does look good against Danny's skin.  
  
"Impaciente," Danny mutters, but he's smiling, so Martin knows he doesn't really mind.  
  
"Very," Martin still answers, shifting until he's lying half on Danny, half on the bed, leg thrown over Danny's stomach and Martin leans forward, tongue darting out to taste the length of Danny's neck.  
  
Danny tastes like sweat, and stale coffee, and residual soap that's likely days old by this point. No one was given time to go home and shower, and usually Martin would be slightly freaked out by that, but he kind of likes Danny dirty, knowing he's likely just as bad.  
  
Danny doesn't seem to mind, anyway, arching into Martin's mouth, hands pulling at Martin's arm and Martin bites at Danny's earlobe before giving in, letting Danny pull him until he's lying stretched out, Danny trapped beneath him.  
  
Martin doesn't hesitate before reinitiating a kiss that, when he thinks about it, has probably lasted two days. He's been thinking about the kiss since then, anyway, Martin trying not to think about the circumstances, focusing instead on the urgency of Danny's mouth.  
  
And Danny's hands, tugging at Martin's boxers, pulling at skin and Martin arches up, letting Danny get them down. Martin's forced to twist at an awkward angle to shimmy them down and over his ankles.  
  
It leaves only a layer of cotton between them, Martin settling back onto Danny, pressing hard into Danny's groin and Danny whispers something that Martin thinks might be his name.  
  
It's hard to tell, though, Martin's tongue still tracing the confines of Danny's mouth. Danny's hips he understands, though, Danny bucking, shifting, arching, straining and Martin finally breaks away long enough to reach between them and help Danny ditch his boxers.  
  
And this, this is good. Skin to skin, Danny's precome sticky between them, leaving them both slick and their cocks glide together with such ease that Martin doesn't ever want to leave.  
  
In fact, he wants to stay here forever, just like this, rocking against Danny, hips grinding tight circles and when Danny winds a leg around Martin's hips, Martin knows that he feels the same.  
  
He's not going to object, anyway, and Martin's not even sure Danny's capable. He's never actually seen Danny this out of control, Danny flushed and panting, pupils dilated and every so often, his eyes fall closed, Danny's face contorting into a grimace of pleasure that leaves Martin breathless.  
  
It's beautiful is what it is, Danny completely undone, and all because of him. All for him and pride surges in Martin's chest.  
  
The sensation lasts only a moment, just until Danny's leg tightens, pulling them even closer and then wet dampness is spilling between them, Martin only vaguely aware that Danny's coming. That he _made_ Danny come.  
  
"Lo siento, siento, siento," Danny mutters, the words barely a whisper, but Martin hears, knows enough Spanish to translate.  
  
He wants to answer, tell Danny that it's okay, that he doesn't need to apologize, that Danny coming is the hottest thing he's ever experienced, but the words won't come, oxygen too precious to waste.  
  
A second later it doesn't matter, Martin's own climax taking him by surprise, his new condoms and new lube forgotten as he comes between them, sticky dampness becoming almost uncomfortable, but Martin doesn't care.  
  
Incapable of caring, the past few days finally catching up, Martin sagging, barely remembering to roll onto his side so that he doesn't crush Danny in his sleep.  
  
~*~  
  
Danny's doing it again.  
  
Flirting.  
  
Except every so often he glances over, arches an eyebrow like he's daring Martin to cross the room and kiss him again.  
  
Martin's wise to his games.  
  
He knows damn well there's a bet circulating, and that Danny stands to win the it all if he can get Martin to break.  
  
Martin's not going to, though. He does, after all, have fifty dollars riding on his self control.


End file.
